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“I assume by your presence that you still consent to our agreement.”
“I won’t back out,” she assured him.
“Good.”
They arrived at a tall iron gate that opened to a sprawling lawn. As the limousine eased slowly uphill, an enormous home came into view. It was pale yellow with rounded soffits and a terracotta roof. She moved to sit up a little straighter, and Lucian released the hold he’d kept on her for the majority of the drive.
“Is this somebody’s house?”
“Yes. Mine.”
She looked back at him and found honesty in his gaze.
“Do you like it?” There was a hint of vulnerability in the question, nearly hidden, but making him seem more human, less godlike.
“It’s the size of a hotel.”
“This one’s all mine.”
They parked at the curve of a cul-de-sac outside a six-bay garage. It occurred to her that she never considered much of Lucian’s life outside of the city, outside of Patras Hotel for that matter. She suddenly had a terrible thought.
“Lucian?” When he didn’t hear her rasp she forced herself to speak a little louder. “Lucian?”
He faced her.
“Do you have a family?”
His expression shuttered. “I have sisters and a father.”
Scout relaxed, but needed to make completely sure. “Have you ever been married?”
She could not do this if there was another woman. If she was the other woman.
“There’s no one else, Evelyn. I’ve been single for quite some time.”
It was obvious by his tone and the set of his features no other questions were welcomed. He climbed out of the car the moment Dugan opened the door. She breathed a sigh of relief. After a few deep breaths, she followed.
They walked up to a set of Gothic French doors that opened before they crossed the top step. A young woman, wearing the same dove gray gown that housekeeping wore at the hotel, held the heavy wooden door as they stepped through.
“Good morning, Mr. Patras.”
Lucian removed Scout’s coat and heaped the heavy wool into the maid’s arms. “Good morning, Lucy. Have my guests arrived?”
“They’re in the library, sir. Breakfast will be served in the dining room. Would you like me to escort your guests there?”
He undid the large buttons of his coat. “That won’t be necessary. Please send coffee to the library. We’ll eat in a bit. Come on, Evelyn.”
Scout still held her apple wrapped in a napkin. She looked down and at the maid. She couldn’t ask her to take her half-eaten apple core. Holding it low by her hip, she hoped no one would notice and followed Lucian, keeping her eyes peeled for a trash can.
The house was like a museum. Every step echoed and she was very aware of her prattling steps in the wake of his much surer paces. There was a long winding staircase made of white marble, and shutters on the inside of the windows that lined the upper floor. It was like a courtyard, but inside. Vines and bright botanical plants filled corners, and mosaic vases topped random side tables.
They approached a set of pocket doors, and masculine voices boomed as Lucian slid them apart.
“Gentlemen.”
“Ah, here he is. Lucian, I was just telling Slade how I took you to the bank on the course the other day,” a man with startling green eyes, golden curls, and rosy skin announced.
His gaze fell on Scout and she looked down.
“My, my, who’s this?” He stepped in front of her and offered his hand. “Shamus Callahan. My friends call me James or Jamie.”
That was a mouthful. She took his proffered hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Scout.”
James smiled. “Scout? What a unique name.” He laughed pleasantly. “It takes a lot for a man named Shamus to say that.”
Lucian stepped to her side and placed his palm at her back. “This is Evelyn Keats. She’s a friend of mine from Patras Hotel.”
The dark-haired man standing behind Jamie made no attempt to introduce himself. He had blue eyes and striking skin. Darker than Lucian’s, his complexion was the color of warm caramel. His observant blue eyes studied her with such intensity that she fought the urge to cover herself.
“Slade, I see you made it out of the city in one piece,” Lucian said as Lucy returned with a tray of coffee.
“It isn’t good for my constitution to be this far out in the country.”
“This is hardly the country,” Lucian mumbled as he doctored up two mugs and handed her one. “And it never bothered you before. Time to get on with life, my friend.”
Cradling it close to her chest, Scout stepped back from the men. She wanted to slip away, but thought it would be rude to take a seat before everyone else.
The coffee was sweeter than she usually had it. She didn’t take her coffee a certain way though. When it was offered, she simply took.
“If I can’t spot a cab on every corner, I’ve left my comfort zone. Are you planning on feeding us?”
